


Smashed by Your Love

by misfitdove



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 05:28:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17995769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misfitdove/pseuds/misfitdove





	Smashed by Your Love

 

 

 

 

### Sherlock lets John go too long without affection or sex and now John can't even concentrate. John decides he has had enough and gives in on a lazy Sunday morning.

Pure S&M smut, sprinkled with subtle mentions of a happy relationship in reality.

 

John comes home for a two week long military retreat to find a squirming and teasing Sherlock. 

 

The flat is rather quiet. The morning sun peeks through the street windows, rays softly lighting the living room which faintly smells of whisky and black tea. John is placidly drinking some of both as he read from his newspaper. For as calm as John is, Sherlock sits tensely in his chair, his breakfast untouched, his long skinny legs are crossed, feet bouncing like a child, his pale blue eyes 

This was no calm morning, John sat tensely in his chair, legs crossed, foot bouncing, eyes boring into the bright little smiley face on the wallpaper.

Sherlock sat across from him in his respective armchair like all mornings. He was currently flipping through the paper, pretending to look for a new case whilst trying to hide his smile. "Just say it, John. Say what you want."

The blond clenched his jaw for a moment, swallowed, and looked towards the other. "What? I'm fine, I'm absolutely fine," he said in that nasal tone. Sherlock clucked his tongue and continued to leisurely skim the paper. Licking his lips, John unraveled his arms to grip the armrests of his chair and restlessly scanned the room. He had things to do, there was laundry and groceries to buy, his blog needed to be updated and for god's sakes when was the last time Sherlock cleaned the hazardous waste out of the refrigerator? He had a busy Sunday, all this and he couldn't muster the concentration for just one of his many chores.

It was _his_ fault. Dark blue eyes observed the tall, lithe figure before him. The curly flop of chocolate hair, fine cheek bones, full lips, and god, that neck. It'd been half a month since Sherlock last touched him and it was driving the doctor mad. It would have been bearable if he'd been allowed to jerk off but Sherlock had been very clear that any orgasms without his presence would result in punishment, and of course Sherlock would know.

Before John could catch himself the paper folded over and grey eyes met his gaze. He'd been caught. Sherlock was loving every bit of this torture. Setting the paper aside he raised his eyebrows at John, daring him to speak the words he'd been longing to hear for the past two weeks. John didn't look away, he stared right on back, his cheeks flushed, his pulse rising. "God, Sherlock, I can't do this anymore," he hissed at him, he stood and reached for the man, intending to drag him off to his bedroom and have his way finally.

Sherlock's hand struck out and caught John's wrist, rising to stand over him. "Say it, you must say it first," he growled at the blond. His cool grey eyes betrayed his hunger, his lust for dominance.

A barely audible whimper escaped John's throat, he didn't even realize it. Gaze dropping to Sherlock's chest he stood motionless, quiet. He let the power of the taller man overwhelm him, fill him, intoxicate him. He sunk into his lust so easily like a sleepy, fat tabby rolling over into the sun, it felt so good to let it go.

"Master," he spoke again, dropping his forehead onto the brunet's chest, letting out a deep breath he didn't even realize he was holding in. "Master, please. I need it."

It wasn't perfect, John spoke so quietly, but it nearly melted Sherlock's composure. He brushed John's hair softly with one hand, the other pressing into his back. "John, you have to tell me what it is that you need," he responded in a false worried tone, a smile plain on his face.

John pressed into Sherlock's towering frame, Sherlock had him riled, Sherlock had him completely. He spoke into his firm chest, words muffled. Taking John's face between his large, warm hands Sherlock pulled his gaze up, "what was that love? I didn't hear you." John's eyes locked onto those lips pulled into a devilish smile, he wanted a kiss, he wanted his reward.

"I need master's cock," he spoke more clearly with more force, eyes still trained on Sherlock's mouth.

Smiling wider, pleased now, he pet John's hair again. He knew that John wanted a kiss and to be praised but he wasn't going to give it to him just yet. Grabbing a handful of the blond locks he kept John’s head bowed back. “Safe word?”

“Gooseberry.”

"Good. Come then, John," he spoke, releasing the man and walking briskly out of the living room and down the hall to the last door, his bedroom. Of course John followed, he couldn't let all of this be for naught.

When he entered the dim room Sherlock had already laid his suit jacket over a chair and was undoing the first buttons of his shirt, back turned to the door. "Undress, John," he instructed him. Nodding, though Sherlock wouldn't have been able to see it John sat on the edge of the bed and removed his clothing in an orderly, doctor-like fashion. His hands trembled slightly, he was a mixture of excitement and anxiety at what his withdrawn master had planned. Once completely unclothed he sat on his knees at the center of the bed, awaiting further instruction.

"John," Sherlock spoke, his voice deep, clear, full of authority. He turned to face him again, coming to the bed and setting one knee onto the mattress. "Two weeks? You've been without any cock for two weeks? You let your master go two weeks unattended? And now you think you deserve a reward?" he snickered. His movements were slow like a creeping lioness through the tall savannah grass as he shifted forwards onto his hands.

John's mouth opened to speak but he could not find the words, now understanding his predicament. Sherlock moved in on him, John sliding back onto the pillows, withdrawing from the advancement, "Sh-Sherlock," he stuttered. His voice was fearful and aroused. This was a game they loved to play after all.

"What am I to do with such a bad toy," he drew out the sentence, pronouncing each word distinctly as his pale eyes gazed up and down John's body. The blond was short but with a slightly more broad and sturdy build than him. Sherlock's graceful fingers languidly traced down John's chest, observing the goose bumps rise on his heated flesh. They traveled over the planes of the doctor's stomach and abdomen before stopping in the fine blond hairs above the pudgy little cock, partly swollen, slowly rising. His own throbbing prick, tucked away still in his trousers, was completely hard and straining against the fabric. "Do you think you deserve your master's cock?" he asked as he lazily stroked John's dick with only his thumb and forefinger.

John was watching every move with wide yet lustful eyes. "No master," he quickly shook his head, holding back a moan. His brows were drawn together as pleasure trickled down from the tip of his cock where Sherlock was smearing his precum into his piss slit. He had to grab the sheets in white-knuckled fists as Sherlock relentlessly massaged the sensitive glands. Another whimper escaped the blond's throat as the tip of his penis was overly stimulated causing his whole body to tense and become hot. "B-but I nn-need it," he could barely talk like this. Quivering, he was unable to handle the pain that came with Sherlock's continuous attention to his slit. The taller male loved this, he loved to torture and watch John shake, he loved that John so willingly subjected himself to this treatment every time.

All at once Sherlock drew back, sitting on his haunches with a cruel smile. John let out a loud sigh, breathing heavily as his body relaxed again. Eventually his half-lidded eyes rose to Sherlock's face to read his fiendish expression, licking his lips nervously. "If you need it so badly prove to me that you deserve it," Sherlock commanded. He remained still, seated with his perfect posture, closed hands resting on each thigh.

Looking him up and down for a moment John slowly moved to sit up again. His eyes stayed on Sherlock's, being careful not to make a false move. His own cock gave a resenting twitch in the cold air, he was left so painfully high and dry. John eased himself forward onto his stomach and crawled between Sherlock's spread thighs. His stiff prick slid against the linens leaving a wet trail of precum, tormenting his poor, recently assaulted cock. Now mere inches away from the strained tent in Sherlock's trousers the heavy aroused musk filled his nose. He leaned in, his nose resting against the clothed tip and took a deep inhale to which the other man responded with a pleased little grumble.

"Hurry up," the brunet snapped, eyes shining down on John with an intense gnawing hunger. John didn't waste another second, hands flying to his button and zip, undoing them and pulling back the cloth of Sherlock's briefs. His thick cock sprung forward, tip brushing against John's cheek. "Nng," John gave a surprised little whine. A throaty chuckle came from Sherlock as he grasped John by his hair and pulled John's nose and lips down into the junction of his thigh and groin, right against his cock and balls. "I said hurry up!" he barked. Immediately the blond began to lap his lips and tongue against the base of Sherlock's prick, one hand sliding forward to cup warm balls. Massaging them with his hand John worked his lips along the turgid shaft leaving desperate open-mouthed kisses. When he arrived at the swollen, red tip he gave it a chaste little kiss before giving it an experimental suckle.

Sherlock breathed deeply through his nose and massaged the back of John's scalp, enjoying John's keen attention to detail as the wet tongue prodded against his slit. John could read Sherlock's body like no one else and vice versa. He knew the perfect ways to goad Sherlock's hunger, to make him starving mad, make him crazy and then at the last second to take the plunge. In one sweeping motion John's mouth engulfed the fat cock, carefully swallowing it down, taking it in deep, inching his lips further. Sherlock couldn't hold back his moan this time as his prick was enclosed in the tight heat of John's throat.

"Fuck, John," he growled under his breath this time, eyes closed as he concentrated on not losing control. If John's mouth wasn't absolutely stuffed with cock he'd be smiling smugly. Sherlock gave a shallow thrust to remind John of the task at hand, causing the blond to give a little gag and cough. “Don’t get cocky,” he said firmly. John’s eyes lowered from the brunet’s submissively and he repositioned himself to better align the lengthy prick with his throat. Taking a deep breath through his nose he tested the first bob, rocking carefully back before pushing the hard cock back into his mouth, throat tightening in protest. He gave a few more slow bobs, readjusting, getting more comfortable before his lips were quickly moving up and down the shaft. His face was red, concentrating carefully, listening to the soft groans emitted by Sherlock. The shaft was hot and so soft against the bed of his tongue, he loved this cock and he loved to taste the warm precum seeping against the walls of his cheeks and down his throat. His movements were swift now, his speed increasing as Sherlock’s prick penetrated his throat over and over again.

Taking a breath he pulled his lips away from the cock with a loud pop, the swollen phallus was glistening, heavily coated with Johns saliva. Gleaming at his work he leaned in and began to slurp on the tip, eyes peering up at Sherlock, seeking some form of praise. He was met with a thin smirk, grey eyes having other ideas. Before John could ready himself Sherlock had his fingers fisted into blond hair and started with a sharp thrust down his throat, rising off his haunches. “Nngh!” John cried but tried to settle himself as Sherlock began to fuck his mouth, pounding into his throat ferociously, locking John’s head into position. John began to softly hump his hips against the mattress, looking for some form of gratification, he was so overwhelmed with lust. His eyes grew wet, tears forming and bubbling over at the intensity. Skilled fingers slid to John’s throat, Sherlock gently wrapped his free hand around the other’s neck, feeling his cock sliding in and out.

With each thrust deep into his throat John gave a pitiful little cry, but he wasn’t in pain, he would let Sherlock fuck him like this for hours if he could. The cry was for attention, he wanted to cum, he needed to cum soon. Sherlock panted as he gave the last few thrusts before pulling John off. He was so close to cumming, but not yet, he couldn’t yet. “Turn around, get on your stomach,” he demanded, his voice filled with such force that John wouldn’t dare disobey. Nodding the doctor quickly scrambled over onto the other side of the bed, laying face down.

Sherlock removed his shirt, the heat getting to him, and crawled over to John. His cock hung low, twitching, red, ready to burst. “You think that was enough you slut? You think you deserve my cock now?” he panted in a dark tone.

“Please, please,” John begged, his voice hoarse now. He turned his head to the side to watch the other with one eye. “Master…” he said softly.

John watched Sherlock’s hand raise and less than a second later a sting radiated across one ass cheek. Sherlock barely gave John any time to recoup before he spanked him again. Tensing, John gave a little yelp against it. “Sher-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence before Sherlock assaulted the other cheek. “Master,” he began again, voice weak and trembling with arousal. “I can’t wait anymore,” he told him honestly.

Sherlock’s character broke momentarily, a genuine smile spreading on his face, knowing John really meant it and he was a little proud that he could work John into such a state.

“Fine, suck,” he demanded, pushing his fingers into John’s mouth,” returning to his state. John wasn’t one to disappoint and went to work, lips closing around the two digits, tongue surrounding them and coating them. Sherlock smiled and massaged his fingertips into the wet tongue. He then shifted forward, resting his dick, still wet with John’s saliva, between red ass cheeks. John had the most perfect ass in Sherlock’s opnion. Not a flaw in sight, wonderfully round globes, smooth and soft. He reached out and took a handful of the ass cheek in his left hand, digging his finger tips in. As he gave it a little shake, watching both jiggle around his cock and John gave a little moan. Beginning to rock his hips back forth, grinding his cock against John’s hole he began to pull his fingers in and out of the hot, sucking, mouth.

“Enough,” he finally called and pulled his fingers from John’s lips. Seeing they were properly oozing with John’s spit he shifted away from his hole. His fingers left a cold, wet trail from the small of John’s back, between his cheeks to his hole. The pucker twitched and John attempted to grind his hips back against them. “Behave John,” Sherlock scolded, using his left hand to force John’s hips down. “This is it? This is what you’ve been wanting all this time?” he taunted the blond as his fingers circled the needy asshole.

“Yes, master. Please, fuck me!” John’s voice was harsh with desperation, his pulsing prick between his stomach and the mattress left a wet puddle of precum. Sherlock finally granted the blond’s wish and burrowed his fingers into the tight hole, working his digits past the second ring of tense muscles.

“Ngah! Ahh, mm,” John calmed himself and laid his head lazily on the mattress. His hips lifted towards the touch but Sherlock was quick to push them back down. John whimpered and struggled against Sherlock, he wanted to thrust himself back against the invading fingers.

“If you cum before I even get inside your next punishment will be far worse than the last,” Sherlock warned, happy to see John calm down again. His fingers began to scissor, spreading the muscles, feeling them soften against him. “There we go, good boy,” Sherlock smiled again rubbing John’s hip. He hooked his finger down, finding the prostate and gave it a little testing prod.

“D-don’t!” John cried again, fists clenching at the cream colored sheets, facing pressing into the pillow. “I’ll cum, please,” he sighed. John was far too turned on and too far gone for teasing. Sherlock resumed a gentle scissoring motion, amused at John’s struggle to hold it together.

Finally John nodded and Sherlock removed his fingers, watching intently as the hole twitched and begged for more. He slipped his trousers further down his thighs, freeing up his cock. Holding his rigid shaft with one hand, using the other to spread John’s cheeks he pressed his tip against the entrance. “Aren’t you going to thank me?” he said to John as he pushed just the tip in. Carefully he moved forward to hover above John’s back. “Thank your master for treating you so well,” he told him.

“Nnng, thaa-aaah!” John couldn’t even speak as the rest of Sherlock’s cock was thrust deep into his hole. He felt so full, he’d had this cock in him many times but it always felt just as good.

“Tight,” Sherlock growled as he leaned in, forehead resting on John’s sweaty shoulder blade. His hips gave a slow thrust, John moaning against it. “You love this,” Sherlock smirked. He hooked his hands around John’s hips and lifted them, “you love when your ass his filled with my cock.” John nodded helplessly, pushing his hips back causing Sherlock to enter him deeper. “Is that what you want? You want to be fucked?” John nodded again. “I guess I can’t refuse,” he smiled, rubbing his hand against John’s ass and gave the red cheek another spank. Holding both hips firmly Sherlock pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in, sinking deep into John.

“Oh, god,” John crooned, both his hands slid under his body, grabbing tight to his cock but not stroking it. “Please, again,” he begged.

Still smirking Sherlock gave another deep thrust, followed by more. His breathing picked up as he began to pound into John, pelvis slapping against John’s abused cheeks. The blond rocked back, moving in time with the thrusts, adding to the friction. “Master! I’m going to cum!” He cried again.

At this Sherlock immediately pulled out. “Not yet, you selfish whore,” he hissed. Still holding onto John’s hips he flipped him over. Pressing their bodies together, cock lining up along John’s, he finally smashed their lips together. John, happy to have his kiss at last, locked his arms around Sherlock’s neck, kissing him back. Their tongues met and collided, rolling against the other, lips sucking, teeth biting. As Sherlock lapped his lips with John’s his fingers went to work at pert nipples, softly flicking them, bringing them to full hardness. Giving one a sharp pinch John pulled away from the kiss with a hiss. “Ouch,” he pouted.

He slid down John’s body and gave the pained nipple a gentle kiss before rolling his flat tongue over the hard bud. Just when John had his trust he gave it a bite and watched John’s reaction with amusement. The blond tensed and shut is eyes, “ow, ow,” he whined, thigh’s clamping around Sherlock’s waist. It was painful, but there was pleasure in the pain. Sherlock finally pulled back and softly rubbed two fingers around the areola of the perky nipple, glistening with his saliva. “Baby,” he teased, causing John to give a little snort.

The brunet unclamped John’s thighs from around his waist and spread them wide. “You better not cum without me,” Sherlock reminded him, to which John nodded and watched excitedly, sitting up on his elbows. It was much easier to enter this time, Sherlock pressing his stiff cock to prepped asshole and slid inside with little resistance. John gave a pleased little sigh, happy to be filled again, and grabbed the other by the shoulders to pull him back on top.

“You’re a demanding little slut today, aren’t you” Sherlock mocked, driving deeply into him, moving the entire bed with a grunt. John nodded, eyes closed, face flushed, feeling the pleasure spread through him again. “You can’t live without my cock, you couldn’t go more than two weeks,” he continued to tease, leaning in to trail his lips along John’s neck back up to his ear before giving it a gentle nibble.

“God, never again,” John promised, nuzzling Sherlock’s cheek. His back arched, stomach pressing into Sherlock’s as he felt the large cock within him grind against his prostate just right. “There, oh god, Sherlock, there!”

He didn’t bother to correct John this time, it made him wild to hear John call his name in the throes of pleasure. Tightly holding the blond’s hips again, getting the alignment just right, he pushed in and continued to repeatedly thrust against John’s prostate. The warm walls of John’s rectum tightened around him, he could feel the pressure building at the base of his cock, his balls tightening.

“More, please, more,” John’s voice trembled, his back arching further and lifting from the bed. White hot euphoria filled his veins, his whole body tensed as his cock twitched and ejaculate began to erupt fromhis tip. The cum splattered over his stomach and chest, “Sherlock! God, Sherlock!”

The brunet was as equally lost in pleasure, his mind completely blank, time barely moving, the world falling away as pumped his cum into John’s hole. He gave a finishing thrust deep into the blond with the last rope escaping.

The two collapsed onto the bed, panting, barely able to breathe the stuffy air. Sherlock pulled out and rolled over, lying beside his lover. He closed his eyes and gave himself a moment to recover before getting up from the bed and removing his trousers now and went to the bathroom.

John lay wasted, still in a blissful, sleepy state. When Sherlock returned, wet rag in hand, John smiled and rubbed the forearm that began to wipe down his chest. “Master?” he cooed to him playfully.

 

 

“Yes?” Sherlock raised a brow to him, reaching down now to clean his own seed from John’s body, watching the other squirm as his recently abused hole was attacked. He knew what John was waiting for though and set the rag aside when he was finished. “Yes, John, you were a good boy,” he laughed and kissed his brow.

 

 

 

 

 

John broke the kiss just long enough to say, “Yes, do it.”

Sherlock did, he just pushed the tip of his dick in and then paused, which John was grateful for. He stopped kissing Sherlock and took some deep breaths. He tried to relax but his body was screaming. It didn’t hurt, per se, but there was a bit of a burn and he needed to adjust.

“Bear down,” Sherlock said.

John did as he was told and Sherlock slid forward. John could feel every inch as it entered his body and when Sherlock was fully seated John looked up at him in wonder.

“Okay?” Sherlock asked.

In response, John pulled Sherlock down for another kiss.

Slowly Sherlock started grinding his hips. John held him close and rocked with him.

The awkward sensation was wearing off and John was starting to enjoy the feel of Sherlock’s cock sliding inside of him. He angled his hips when Sherlock started kissing his neck. He wanted to know how it felt to have his prostate stimulated during sex.

“Ah!” he gasped when Sherlock found the target. Oh, that was good.

He held his hips at that angle and lifted his leg to spur Sherlock on.

Sherlock took the hint and started thrusting harder and harder as John shouted in ecstasy. It was wonderful. There was so much going on that he could barely keep track of everything. It was exquisite.

“God, Sherlock! You’re, ah, so, ah, fuck, amazing, shit, ah, ah, ah.”

Sherlock reached his hand between them and started working John’s cock.

It was too much. It was not enough. He was in a different plane of existence and nothing would ever be the same.

He faintly heard Sherlock groan and when he bit down on John’s shoulder it pushed him over the edge.

Both his throat and ears hurt from his scream.

When he came back to his senses he saw Sherlock tying a knot in the condom and setting it on top of his book.

“Experiment,” he explained, although he didn’t need to. John knew Sherlock; he’d be surprised if he didn’t save their fluids after sex for science.

John took a tissue and wiped his semen off his chest. He set it next to the condom.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
